page.layout: post page.title: We Are the Singularity page.date: 2021-06-21 00:00:00 +0000 page.url ⛓️: /2021/06/21/1-we-are-the-singularity/ page.content_id: 6 page.author: Tyler page.type: Autofiction page.ascii: ; page.x: 4 page.y: 27 page.class: red page.attributes: ennui, anthropocene, fire, singularity
Formaldehyde, Finnegan, fermium, fen. I’m trying to apply what I’ve learned from studying the floating islands all around me in the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. Unlike the sonderous eddies in the Sargasso Sea, this place is undulating and uneasy. My compass spins north, but then ticks counterclockwise with each heartbeat of everyone I love.
Is it possible this reality is coeval with yours?
Do you remember the hole in the ozone layer?
I do. It was in the Weekly Reader circa 1995. I can still see the cover - a blood red blister of a sun, smoldering on a horizon. Perhaps above oil rigs. But perhaps I implanted those arachnids later. Forgive me. It was hard to hold onto the facts when I was seven.
The biggest thing was some sort of sensation of accomplishment. That we did, in fact, successfully stop the hole in the ozone layer from expanding and destroying everything. It left a deep imprint on me. Then 2001 happened and everything changed.
Mapcore confronts both space and time.
We plot maps between points in our past and places in our future.
The track that accompanies this post sounds like it could have been made 20 years ago by Labradford or Godspeed, but it was done today, here, in 2021, with a mechanical keyboard, a dozen lines of code, six eurorack modules, and some reverb.
Yesterday was the solstice.
Tonight, the darkness grows and the cartographers must once again map the shadows.